These Wearisome Days
by The-Beagle312
Summary: Follow Dorian, an advance scout for the Varden on a mission to save Alagaesia, but not all secrets were meant to be revealed and his secret may throw Alagaesia's future into chaos.
1. Chapter 1 - A Humble Beginning

**Thank you for taking the time to read my first story, I'll keep it brief, all comments and criticism are appreciated.**

 **Read, review, enjoy**

The day began like any other, the cool morning air whispered through the deep green of the forest, the fallen leaves blew gently with the breeze, as the sky turned pink with the coming of the dawn. The beautiful colour of the sunrise reflected upon the slow moving river, the water glinting like diamonds where the sun touched its frigid surface, river birds dipped their graceful heads, searching for a meagre breakfast, their legs creating small ripples that gently lapped against the small riverbank.

A small home rested on the hill, a plume of smoke rising from its chimney as the scent of wood smoke washed over Dorian, a hunter by trade, his skill with a bow unmatched by any in the land, hence his appointment as senior scout for the Varden. However guilt lay heavy on his mind, the people he had killed kept him a lonesome man, no time for fickle things such as love, or excitement. He sat on the riverbank and looked upon the glistening water with a feeling of emptiness filling his eyes, a dreadful calm settled upon his land, the tension became thick in the air, almost palpable. He skipped a single stone along the water and the graceful waterfowl took flight, unhappy with their meal being disturbed. He felt for the birds, as he to had been disturbed in a moment of peace.

He glanced at his hand, within which lay a immaculate piece of paper bearing the Varden's Sigil. It read

Scout the way forward for the main force through the mountains of Farthen Dur, do not contact us directly, we wish to keep the enemy unaware of you and your actions, contact us by messenger eagle at any post office, we have agents in place to send us your messages

-Jormundur

"Bloody pampered lords, ordering me about", he muttered with barely concealed anger entering his voice,"I have no need for the blood of more innocents on my hands"

With a sigh of a man defeated, he walked slowly to his cabin, a sense of dread falling about his shoulders.

The door opened with the creak of unoiled hinges, the sound resounding through the empty cabin, a deep silence suffused the home, until the soft tread of Dorians boots could be heard, the only sound in lonely abode, he continued his journey to his room, where he lay open a beautifully crafted oakwood case, inscribed with elvish runes. He slid the silver key into the keyhole with a practiced precision, and removed the latches. He was still for a moment, a grimace crossing his scarred face, the importance of his next action disturbed him, his life could go two radically different ways based on his decision.

A faint whispering could be heard, "Open it Dorian, your road will be hard but you will triumph in the end, use it to fulfill your destiny"

With a heavy sigh, he opened the case and gazed upon one of his oldest possessions, a beautiful yew recurve bow, with a string made from the hair of a Feldûnost, and the power of a single gem held the bow's magical potential , it was unmatched by any human bow, and the power behind its limbs could launch an arrow farther than any seen. This bow was a heirloom from a different time, when the elves still travelled among men, and humanity seemed poised to join them, this bow was his birthright, his source of guilt and regret, but also a source of hope. He had remained at peace for too long, his hunter blood urged him to grab his bow and follow his orders, and in that moment he made his decision.

-A week later in the untamed wilderness of Farthen Dur-

The horse galloped at a furious pace, the braying of hunting dogs behind it urging it on, sweat ran down its flanks and the ripple of muscles played across its hide like a wave cresting across the shore, foam dripped from its muzzle and a measure of bloody gashes ran along its side where Dorian's spurs had left their cruel mark.

"HYYAAA" he goaded his horse as he violently whipped his reins and dug his spurs further into the poor beast, its lathered muscles and parched throat unable to provide the energy or stamina to keep itself going, its master long since given up trying to keep the horse alive, knowingly riding it to death. He felt the change before he saw it, a lowering of the muzzle, a shortened stride, and a wheezing breath akin to a howling wind racing through a forest, death was close to this horse and Dorian knew it.

One last hug and a brief goodbye, and the horse fell to its knees, than, like a graceful giant, rolled onto its side where it breathed its last, death took his prize swiftly as Dorian collapsed from the strain of his ride, the hunting dogs forgotten in the haze of fatigue and grief over the loss of his horse, he looked skyward and his eyes drifted closed and unconsciousness took him.

The mercy of a dreamless sleep passed him by, he saw himself as a warrior of evil in a world of fire and ash, the scent of decay filtered through the air and the wailing of the dead and dying reached his ears, his sword radiated with a vile sickness, his armour surrounded him wards of fear and pain, turning all that opposed him into gibbering masses of flesh, incapable of even gripping a sword, much less fight him. All who stood in his way fell to his strange blade.

He stalked through this strange world killing all and sparing none, even women and children were not spared his wrath, blood soaked the earth beneath his feet and he reveled in the slaughter, he was not unchallenged however, a young boy walked up to him, the fear evident in his young eyes, but courage resided there to, foolish courage but enough to stand up and face him.

"You choose to die like a man, that I can admire" spoke the warrior

"You may have magic but I have something to fight for" the young boy shouted

"HAHAHAHA" the deep laughter boomed across the silent battlefield, disturbing the carrion birds who had come to feast, "you seek to fight me boy, know that I will show no mercy to you, your body will lay upon this bloodied field and rot with the rest of them, a fitting end for an upstart boy seeking to test me"

The duel began with the warrior on the offense, his runed sword glowing with strange magics, born of plague and death, his gaze bored into the boy with an almost bored look, he was going to play with this prey.

The Warrior darted forward with a slash, opening up the boy's right shoulder with a long, deep gash that pulsed with sickness, the boy countered with a weak thrust that glanced off the pauldron of the strange warrior.

"I thought you'd put up more of a fight, this is pathetic", he swung again this time cutting a shallow furrow through the boy's cheek, leaving behind a trail of oily black poison

"AHHHHHHHH" The boy cried out in pain

"Such a valiant effort wasted", The Warrior muttered disappointedly, "I thought this might actually be fun" he began to walk towards the boy, his towering form shadowed the young man's face and cast his features into a deep shadow

He stepped towards the now kneeling boy and prepared the final blow, the wails of the dying fell upon their ears

"Any last words?", he asked mockingly, knowing he'd receive no reply,"Well" he paused "with the formalities out of the way"

The Warrior pushed his repulsive blade through the boys young, frail body, The Warrior began to turn, thinking the fight was over, his unending boredom returning like a well-fitting glove surprisingly the boy planted his hands on the ground and starting rising to his feet, the sword piercing his gut being pushed deeper into his body with every movement, his body open to the air, his vitae running in rivers along the ground, and with a cry of pain he pushed himself to his feet and pulled a small dagger from his sleeve, the warriors face changed to one of surprise

"ARGHHHH" he bellowed, and the dagger blurred towards the weak spot between the Warrior's helmet and breastplate, moments before it hit the dream dissolved into a fine gray mist, and a voice spoke from the endless void, "You wish to forget your past, and your future is clouded, this shields you from petty things such as destiny, your actions alone will decide your fate, Dorian of Hearthkeep, choose well, for the world rests on your shoulders.

Drip...drip...drip, the steady and constant noise both annoyed and awoke Dorian, his eyes squinting in the dark of his cramped cell, filthy straw lay in one corner, a so called bed for him to rest on, he looked up and saw a small grate, through which his only source of light filtered through. The smell of an open sewer filtered into his cell and the muted sound of a market reached his ears, but a strange scent flowed in as well, blood and decaying flesh, as the tolling of a great bell echoed in the distance reaching his ears still bearing the discordant chimes tones from whence it came. Dras-Leona a city of decay and grime, no civilized person would choose to be here, and very few did, unfortunately for Dorian the choice was not his to make, shortly after falling unconscious he was captured by slave traders in the deep ravines of Farthen Dur, and taken to Dras-Leona in a deep sleep, plagued by strange dreams. The strange voice's prophecy rang through his head, and he was unsure of his future and what it held for him and the land he called home.

The soft pat of leather boots hitting the cobbled floor betraying their presence to him, his hearing honed by years of living on the frontier as a hunter, the jingle of a coin purse followed by a wheezing breath gave Dorian the assumption of a larger merchant come to purchase a new slave, he rushed to the grime covered straw fleet as the arrows he so loved to fire, hiding his consciousness from his jailors, and would be master.

The smallest echo drifted down the corridor, followed by rambunctious laughter, "you sure you want one of these, they're just the strays, nothin special bout 'em" one of the guards escorting the heavyset man mocked, his voice laced with a disdain for those he guarded

"I just wished to browse the stock before they hit auction, make sure it's worth my time to attend" he spoke with the air of a man used to getting his way, "Lets see, what about this one"

He pointed vaguely in the direction of Dorians prone, sleeping form, a air of disinterest about his face

"Found him near Varden territory, probably a scout from the weapons he carried, mighty fine bow though".

"Hmmmmm, interesting", the man spoke, licking his lips, wetting their dry and cracked flesh,"you may escort me out gentlemen, I have seen all I wish" and with that he was gone, the pungent aroma of his sweat drenched form lingering behind, and the echo of his conversation with the guard became quieter and quieter, until silence fell upon the prison. After counting down from a hundred, Dorian slowly rose out of the hay, and stood, his shoulders shaking from barely contained anger, just the thought of slavery sickened him to his core, and to think he was to be bought and sold like a head of cattle frustrated him more. His mood only worsened when one of the other prisoners started talking.

A man spoke from the cell across from him, tall and thin, the robes he wore hanging off his wiry frame, his voice barely a whisper among the ambience of the prison, "hey, my name is Eskheart, I've been here for quite awhile, they keep trying to sell me, but no one wants half a man as a slave", he gestured down to his belt, the implied meaning behind his words sickened Dorian "but that merchant seemed pretty interested in you, so if you wanna escape count me in".

"I'll think about it" Dorian replied, a tone of dismissal entered his voice, clearly disinterested in whatever the man had to say

"I don't think you understand the situation friend, based on that merchants interest, I'd give you three days till you're on the block"

"Three days?"

"Yep, he did seem mighty interested, that'll accelerate his plans for you", Eskheart replied, "so we doing this or what?"

"Fine, you're in but you need to do something for me first".

"Goddammit, how'd I get talked into this, that sweet talking son of a bitch" Eskheart muttered to himself, "Just grab my bow, then my plan will come together" He mockingly repeated as he crawled down the dark hallway towards a door set into the solid stone walls of the prison, behind which was the prisoner storage, and within that room was one of Dorian's most prized possessions, his yew bow. As Eskheart got closer he heard the idle small talk of the guards conversation. He stood up momentarily and wrapped the threadbare blanket, given to him in his cell, around his shoulders and started faking a limp and then used the remainder of the hood to cover his face, He then mustered his confidence and limped straight in.

"Hey, stop right there" the guard on the right shouted,"what business do you have here old man"

"I am here on Lord Galbatorix's orders, which are not to be bandied about with the likes of you" he spoke, a small slip of his power entering his voice.

"Hmmph, fine go on than grandpa, go fetch your masters bone, I didn't want to get up anyway" The guard then sighed and went back to his chat with the others, using this time, Eskheart slipped into the dark interior of the storage room, a basket of torches, and a small flame burned next to the door, and the scent of unburnt oil filled the air, the darkness pressed against him, but a faint glow could be seen, under a pile of old tunics he found the beautiful elven-made bow, its sleek lines and graceful curves gave it a simple yet exotic look, it's simple yew construction was bolstered by elvish spells weaved into it when it was sung from the tree of its birth. Eskheart spoke a single word "Finna", a row of runes lit up in silver, a soft light flowed along the letters, giving them the illusion of a movement, the runes had a warmth to them, like the kiss of the sun upon your skin, along it read "thrífask onr celöbra un waíse du vercingetorix"

"Grasp the light, and become the warrior of kings" Eskheart spoke aloud,"This Dorian may be of more interest than I thought".


	2. Chapter 2 - Hope for Escape

The bell tolled in the distance, as the sounds of the market began to filter through the small opening into his cell, the smell of bread, freshly baked, covering the deep smell of corruption that had a constant presence in the horrid city. The sun still hid its face from the people of Dras-Leona, and the citizens still slept under the watchful gaze of Helgrind and its abhorrent inhabitants, unaware of the tension that built beneath their very noses that would end with a crescendo unlike any other in their boring and ignorant lives however knew nothing outside of the cramped cell he had called home for nearly 2 days now, waiting for the return of his new found friend, the half-man Eskheart.

"Where is the bastard, he should be back by now" Dorian muttered under his breath, his apprehension growing with every passing second, his fear of being abandoned in this lonely place beginning to overcome his reason, his fear only grew when he heard footsteps approaching, his mind raced with possibilities, who was coming, what did they want, was Eskheart ok? These questions and more filled his head as the sound approached his cell, he looked up and with a sigh of relief he saw Eskheart in the hallway, his fear banished by the object in Eskhearts hands, the muted glow a familiar sight to Dorian, instantly calming whatever was left of the fear he felt but a moment ago.

"Did you get it"

"Of course, one bow, as ordered" Eskheart replied.

"Well can you open my cell door, we're getting out of here"

With a whisper from Eskheart, the door swung open with the creak of unoiled hinges, the sound echoing in the empty silence of the cell block, and the constant dripping of rancid water from the pipes above gave the whole place a rank and dark feel, it ominous feel matched only by its smell.

Without a word Eskheart handed Dorian his bow, the familiar warmth of the yew filled his hands and his face lit up with a rare smile, and with the ease of a practiced hunter he strung his bow, his back muscles straining with the effort, and with a heavy grunt he slipped the string into place and the bow limbs pulled taut, the bow was once again whole and thrumming with power, along with its owner.

"I also grabbed the arrows, fancy ones at that, must of cost a fortune"

"Didn't cost me anything they were a gift" Dorian whispered

"Must of had some rich friends then" Eskheart replied

"Enough banter, we need to leave" Dorian ordered, clearly not wishing to continue the line of questions.

"Alright, Let's go", and with that Dorian and Eskheart began their slow walk down the block, their footsteps barely audible over the thunderstorm raging outside, and as they passed one of the cells a weak voice, laden with fear and fatigue strained out from a parched throat.

"Please free me, I'm a rider and a friend"

The comment did not register for a moment but when it did Dorian immediately grew suspicious.

"If you are truly a rider, you will show me your palm" Dorian asked, certain he was about to find out the truth about this boy, when to his surprise he saw the Gedwey Insignia, glowing like silver fire just below the surface of the boy's hand, the significance of it was not lost on Dorian who immediately set to work ridding the door of its lock, a haste to his movements betrayed his excitement. draping the boy's arm over his shoulder, his weak and frail body felt disturbingly light to Dorian, his worry only growing when the boy grew silent and with a start Dorian realized the thunderstorm had stopped, but a steady thumping could be heard, growing closer to them with every passing second.

"What the hell" he questioned

"Don't worry, just the escape plan, but before we do anything we have to free someone else, about 3 cells down" The boy clearly willing to put his own escape on the line to save this mystery prisoner

"She must be important to warrant the attention of the last free rider of Alagaesia" Dorian questioned, "why her?"

"She is an elf, captured and tortured by the shade Durza" The boy muttered, a barely constrained anger entering his voice, his care for the girl evident in his tone.

"Fine, but after that we are leaving, whether you like it or not" Dorian replied, his frustration evident.

They sped up a little as they neared the cell, soft breathing could be heard on the other side, laced with tiny whimpers every couple of seconds, the person on the other side clearly in great pain and misery. Eskheart once again muttered under his breath, this time Dorian caught the words,

"ládrin"

"How is it you speak the ancient language, but are somehow imprisoned here, you have the ability to use magic, why do you not simply leave this place" Dorians suspicion only grew when Eskheart fell silent

"Well you better.."Dorian started to say, but was cut off when Eskheart interrupted him

"I do not leave this prison because I am its warden, what better way to watch your prisoners than be among them, I have only played along for this long because you interest me, and I was hoping you could help me earn the trust of the boy rider, but alas, it was not meant to be, you are just too perceptive" With his small speech finished his form began to change before Dorian's eyes, becoming taller and narrower, his skin turning pale and white, and his hair turning a blood red. Standing before them was the very entity they had hoped to avoid, the shade Durza

"You are a very perceptive man Dorian, I have an offer that shall only be given once, return to your cell peacefully and I will make sure you are well taken care of" Durza spoke in an even tone, his voice eerily smooth without a hint of emotion, as was befitting of a shade.

Dorian paused for a moment, appearing to consider the offer

"I'll tell you what, give me a couple minutes with my friend here, so we can discuss this dilemma"

"DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL" Durza raised his voice, his temper flaring up

"AS IF I WOULD JUST LET YOU TALK WITHOUT MY SUPERVISION", he continues to rant, not noticing Dorian and the boy freeing the strange girl and slipping past him and down the hall, Durza's raging voice growing quieter as they crept along the hallway towards a large room filled with the light of the midmorning sun, and tantalizingly close to them the hope for escape.

They entered the room and found a large airy space, filled with long rough hewn tables, made smooth by the hundreds of men who had used them over the many years, their surfaces marked with countless stains from spilled ale, its rank smell filling the room. Silence reigned supreme however the soldiers not present had clearly left in a hurry, their half eaten food and ale a testament to that, the thought of what could've cause them to leave in such a hurry briefly entered Dorian's mind before being dispelled by his relief that they weren't there to greet him and his newfound companions.

As he looked around his began to hear Durza down that long hallway they had left him in, his voice becoming alarmingly closer by the second, Dorian looked around and noticed a couple of tables were lower to ground and covered with fine cloth, evidently set for officers, or important guests, but nothing that could serve as an adequate hiding place

"Move, get as far as you can, then start heading to the Varden, I'll try to delay him as long as I can" Dorian whispered

"No, help is on the way, we just have to get under one of these tables" The boy responded, his tone even and without fear

"But we cannot hide from Durza, he'll find us in a heartbeat"

Dorian gasped as he was pulled under the table by the boy, hitting his head on the way down

"We won't be hiding, we will be covering ourselves from the rocks"

"What rocks" Dorian asked, the question however would go unanswered as what was quite possibly the loudest sound he had ever heard boomed outwards from the center of the roof, its echo resounding throughout the prison, the new hole in the ceiling allowed a trickle of light to bleed in, and the sounds of a roaring dragon to finally reach Dorian's ears.

"By all that is holy, what was that", Dorian's voice echoed throughout the dust filled room, his voice drowned out by the continued roaring of the dragon, he finally took the chance to gaze upon the awesome sight of the gleaming Sapphire scales belonging to what was the most beautiful animal he had ever laid his weathered eyes upon, the sun in the sky glinted off those scales and covered the room in the diamond shaped reflections, the taut muscles covering it's legs and the powerful shoulders made to bear its immense weight while in flight only added to its mesmerizing beauty.

Dorian was shaken out of his reverie by the young boy,

"she's beautiful, isn't she" he commented, "suppose if we're going to be travelling together you should know our names, I'm Eragon, and this is Saphira, my dragon".

 **AN- Thank you for your patience and I greatly appreciate you readers, please review and I will see you in the next chapter -The Beagle**


	3. Chapter 3 - A Plan Put In Action

Dorian looked up and was bewildered at the legend come to life in front of him, ripped straight out of the tales he'd read as a child, brought to life in flesh and blood, and his eyes sparkled with a newfound belief in the struggle against the empire, this dragon represented the hope of the Varden and all that fought to free Alagaesía from Galbatorix's tyranny, and while he may have had a grim view on the world this was a moment he knew he would remember for the rest of his day's.

"Saphira, huh", Dorian stated, "good name, goes with the scales"

"Well she chose it, and as much as she appreciates the compliment, she would like us to hurry up and leave if you don't mind"

"Of course" with that Eragon jumped onto Saphira's outstretched foreleg using it as a step onto the small gap in the spines on her back, a simple yet sleek saddle made of supple leather already there, he buckled the leg straps with a practiced ease, then he placed the elf in front of him and balanced her up against his chest, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment as he tried his best not to react to the beautiful elf's close proximity.

"Help me up" Dorian asked expectantly, but to his dismay he was denied entrance to Saphira's back.

"not enough room, she'll carry you in her claws, just hold on a second"

"You're joking", with a heavy sigh betraying his annoyance, Dorian accepted his lot, crossed his arms and awaited his ride, the look on his face ample evidence of his disposition towards the news

With a powerful downstroke of her deep blue wings, Saphira began the process of gaining altitude, her muscled wings struggling to lift the added weight of two more passengers, the strain evident in the ripple of muscles along her broad shoulders, once a couple of metres off the ground she scooped up Dorian with her powerful claws, their razor sharp edges just one movement away from slicing him to bloody ribbons, however she left his arms free to use his bow, should it be required, and based on how the escape had been going, she was sure he would.

She continued to use her powerful muscles to drive her wings down, their membranes taut with air, all of it being pushed downwards to generate enough lift to get her massive frame airborne, it got easier as she gained momentum and the added speed helped her reach the desired height faster.

Finally she stabilized and balanced for a moment on an updraft, resting for the burst of energy she'd need to get past the walls with her extra burden in tow, her senses looking into the foggy morning, the light mist making it easier to hide herself from the unwary soldiers below.

She tipped her wings forward slightly to gain thrust and with a word of warning to Eragon she began her flight.

With a powerful downstroke of her magnificent wings, the leading edge tipped down to keep herself at a stable altitude, she began to gain speed and flew towards the gate, a few unwary civilians looked up in horror at the swooping dragon above them, surprised and astonished by the mythical beast in their midst. Meanwhile the unsuspecting and countless soldiers guarding the city, unaware of the tons of muscle and flesh currently heading directly toward them like a hawk diving for it's prey, stood oblivious to the threat inside the walls and busied themselves looking out towards the empty fields beyond the towering wall.

Those soldiers were between her and Eragon's freedom, hopefully the extra cargo was worth it, cause she sure as hell was gonna pay for it with blood.

A scowl beset Dorian's face, and he held his bow with a white knuckled grip, he was not going to drop it and have to go find it again, losing it once was enough stress for him.

After what seemed like an eternity he felt Saphira's momentum begin to tip forward and he finally took a look around, his weathered eyes looked towards their destination, and the guards between him and it, as much as he hated to use his bow, and the toll it would take on his body, he knew if he didn't use the weapon in his hands, his newfound allies might get hurt along with the last free rider and the Vardens only hope of victory against the empire.

With a quick motion he drew an arrow from his embellished quiver and laid it against the silvery bowstring, the tip of the arrow glowing in the morning sun, the shaft smooth and cold to the touch, the fletching soft against his worn hands and the strong scent of yew filled his nose, it's magic infused limbs straining with barely contained power just begging to be released, a slight crosswind blew against his face and he naturally compensated, aiming slightly to the left.

With an almost religious reverence he drew the arrow until the soft feathers touched his cheek, the arrow began to grow warm in his hand as he focused on drawing power from his body, his energy seeping into the ancient yew and filling it's taut limbs with extra power, and without warning the tip of the beautiful arrow ignited with a flame of green, it's pale light reflected on Dorian's face, and for just a moment covered his arm with a glowing green bracer, covered in strange runes, protecting his flesh from the ancient and volatile magics imbued in it.

With a roar that echoes through the morning sky he released the arrow and watched it speed towards its target, already knowing his aim was true and with satisfaction he watched it arc, the small flame on the tip growing in size as it speed off through the mist, it's growing flame created a trail of green, that left a blazing wound across the sky.

The people below looked upon the awesome sight with wonder, there faces reflecting the green fire as it continued its journey towards the wall, there amazed faces quickly turned to fear, as the same green fire ballooned outwards in a massive fireball upon impact, consuming the soldiers on the wall killing them instantly, and much to the surprise of the townsfolk, leaving the wall intact.

Unfortunately, Dorian didn't get to revel in his victory as his vision faded and he collapsed, his body exhausted and drained from the effort, his eyes grew heavy and then his vision faded to black.

His eyes opened and once more he was in the guise of the strange warrior, but this time he was intangible and invisible, this time his place was merely as an observer to the events unfolding in front of him.

He saw a heavyset man dressed in robed finery, standing before the king in his spacious throne room, tiny in comparison to the massive vaulted ceiling, and pure black drapes, his voice pitiful next to the king's charismatic and booming one.

The king's voice echoed out from the throne, it's cadence and tone showed the man as a magnificent speaker, it's honeyed tones easy on the ear and bespoke of a certain charisma, this man was the king no doubt about it, however the man in front of him remained a mystery.

"You and your house have served me well Quillius, I would reward you, name your price and it will be yours"

"You honor me, my lord" Quillius spoke," I have but one request, I want to be a Lord under you, to serve you for the rest of my days"

"A noble request" Galbatorix pondered for a moment,"you shall have Hearthkeep, a disgraced house, but I'm sure under your care it will flourish into one of the greatest this kingdom has ever known"

"Thank you my lord, a thousand times thank you" and with that Quillius scurried out of the room as fast as he was able, his footsteps receding into the distance until finally the doors shut, plunging the throne room into silence once more.

"Whilst you may not know it yet there is a method to this madness Dorian" a strange voice spoke from behind him,"your time will come and your decisions will make or break this land, and you will have your vengence"

"Wait I have questions"

"And they will be answered soon enough Dorian of Hearthkeep".

-an hour later, at Brom's campsite-

His eyes cracked open and he blinked rapidly to try and clear the sleep from them, but he hissed in pain as the sun hitting them directly shot lances of agony through his head, causing him to immediately close them again and groan with barely concealed pain, his head throbbed and his arms felt like they were on fire when he moved them to cover his eyes, he gasped and let them fall to the ground forgotten amongst the constant aches of his fatigued body besieging his sore head without end.

"He's awake, one moment Brom", Dorian heard the sound of footsteps approaching and gasped in pain as he moved to an upright position, he stretched his legs out and rested his weight on his arms looking up to see a concerned Eragon looking down at him, blocking his face from the sun's glare and providing a small reprieve from the noonday heat.

"How are you feeling? That was a nice shot, but how did you do it? what words did you use to cast the spell? Are you a mage? What other words do you know? Can you teach me?" A multitude of questions spilled out of Eragon's mouth, and Dorian's head hurt more as he tried to process all of them.

"Give the poor man a break Eragon, he just cast what looked like from here a very draining spell and he doesn't need your curiosity making it worse", Brom chastened Eragon, much to Dorian's pleasure, as he sighed in relief at not having to answer the young riders questions.

"However we do expect some answers soon, once you're rested and we are away from the empire" Brom told Dorian, in a way that showed he didn't really have a say in the matter

 **AU- Once more I thank you for reading, I'm still working on this story, it's just hard for me to find the time, thank you again for your patience** **\- The Beagle**


	4. Chapter 4 - Relics Of An Age Forgotten

**I know its been awhile since I last uploaded, like a really long while, but it's been hard for me to find the motivation to write. Anyway enjoy the quite small chapter, review are appreciated as always and until next time. -The Beagle**

Several days later, near the city of Furnost, a small city on the edge of lake TÜDOSTEN, the party finally stopped their headlong rush to escape the empire, safe in Surdan territory. Happy to take a break from the incredibly hard ride from dras-leona, and constantly being hunted by the empire's soldiers they sought respite in a shabbily built tavern that looked perilously close to collapsing, its overhanging second floor leaning uncomfortably far to one side, but it was the best they were going to get, and beggars can't be choosers.

The whole band of unlikely comrades slept soundly in their room, weapons close at hand knowing how flimsy their supposed safety was. The knowledge of how easily they could be captured this close to the border, despite the threat of retaliation from Surda, weighed heavily on their minds. Dorian, in particular, slept a little less soundly than the rest, tossing and turning, clearly in the throes of a nightmare, but not making a sound. A strange figure rose and quietly shuffled over to see what the fuss was about, his bare feet barely making a noise on the rough and pitted wooden floor, his breathing quiet and controlled, clearly not a stranger to moving silently.

"Dorian, wake up" the stranger whispered, "We need to talk"

Dorian cracked one eye open, his instincts telling him to make sure that no danger was present, but after recognizing the strange silhouette that had woken him as Brom, he stood up and followed him out the door as quietly as possible, his skill at silent movement coming in handy to not disturb the others.

They arrived in the large room where food was served, but at this hour, not a soul could be found, it was too early for the breakfast and much too late for any kind of drinking or eating.

"Alright, you have my attention, what is it you want?" Dorian asked, annoyance at being wakened etched onto his scarred face.

"We are safe and out of earshot of the empire, now you will fulfill your promise and answer some of my questions"  
"Fine, ask away"

Brom sat down in one of the chairs at a small, rough-hewn table, then gestured to the seat across from him.

"We may be awhile, so I suggest you take a seat"

Before sitting down Dorian ambled over to the bar and snagged a bottle of ale, it's warmish contents spilling over the rim from his tired movements. His knees protested as he sat down, but he silenced a groan and sat down as a rather awkward atmosphere settled around the two men.

"well," Dorian asked, eager to get this line of questioning done with.

"First off, I have to ask how did you come by that magnificent bow?"

That is quite the story old man, so settle in.

It all started many millennia ago when the elves still warred with the dragons, their gleaming blades tainted with the blood of ancients. However, among their number, several figures darted around, casting green light from their fearsome weapons, the ethereal light creating eerie shadows across the battlefield. These elves slew dragons wherever they went, slaying many, sparing none, until the sky rained dragon blood and many an elf, in their bloodlust, danced and sang haunting tunes in the veritable slaughter of their hated enemies. Then a bone white dragon soared in over the battlefield and settled on an outcropping near the fields of battle. As one the elves ran towards this new threat, weapons shrieking as the spun through the air, their grace matched only by the thunder of the dragons as they rallied to this new ally. Surprise spread through the ranks of both elf and dragon like a wave of fire once they realized that sitting astride this magnificent beast was an elf, and his name was…

"Yes, yes, I know the history of the first rider" Brom rudely interrupted, "I asked about the origins of the bow you carry"

"Have some patience old man" Dorian spoke, taking a generous swig from his tankard and in the process spilling some on his tunic, he either did not notice or did not care because he continued his story without pause.

"And his name was Eragon, the first rider"

The battlefield fell silent, dragons and elves alike froze in shock once laying their eyes upon this strange occurrence, both sides trying their best to process the scene in front of them. One elf raced forward, the elves parted in front of him like a silent sea. He came to stop in front of the large white dragon, he was joined by two others. These three elves all had something in common, the strange green weapons that the dragons had come to fear, mighty weapons with only one purpose, slaying dragons. One of these weapons was different from the rest, not a sword or lance, but a bow, of the finest construction. Its sleek curves and simple lines did not feature the ostentatious ornamentation of its brethren, its simple lethality and functionality did not require the inlays and filigree to release its inherent power. The solitary elf bearing this weapon drew back the string to his cheek, as green fire raced along it, a full suit of strange green armor covered his body and the arrow lit up with a volatile green fire.

The nameless elf released the arrow and it split the sky with a line of green fire, appearing like a comet arcing perfectly toward the lone rider. As what appeared to be every elf on the field rushed towards their foolish kin, they suddenly stopped and stared as the arrow completely missed its target.

"That was the last arrow I shall ever fire, never again will I or this bow spill the blood of a dragon" The lone elf shouted, "This weapon shall only be given to those who will use it for peace, not war". Without another word the elf dropped the bow in the blood-soaked sand and walked away, never to be seen again.

From then on the bow was given as a gift to humans considered friends of the elves, only those who would honor and cherish the memory of the nameless elf by keeping it pure of dragon blood.

"That's quite the story" Brom spoke, his voice laden with intrigue. Without realizing they had burned through three candles already, the last a tiny nub on the table.

"But I'm glad you told me, I'd love to know why the elves chose you to hold the bow, but that's quite enough talking for tonight, shall we continue another time? Brom questioned

"Sounds like a plan, old man"


	5. Chapter 5: The Race Begins

**Chapter 5: The Race Begins**

 **A/N: Its been awhile but the good news is that I have completely planned out his story, start to finish and I got myself a beta reader as well. The amazing Umbridoar. Anyway enjoy the chapter and until next time** **~The Beagle**

Following his conversation with Brom all Dorian wanted to do was finish his mug of warm ale and head upstairs for a few hours of restless sleep. His eyelids refused to obey his orders however, and they slowly closed despite his futile struggle to keep them open. With a resigned sigh he crossed his arms on the rough hewn table in front of him, and gently lowered his head upon them, immediately falling asleep.

Once more he entered a now familiar dreamscape, his confusion now replaced with a feeling of foreboding with a hint of curiosity. These dreams were never fun, but he was learning more and more about his past with each journey into the depths of his mind.

This was just like the other dreams, but this time it was in a densely wooded area, with centuries old forest surrounding a bare clearing. Where only dirt and the destitute husks of once mighty trees remained.

This circle of decay was strangely uniform and seemed to emit from a single yew tree, its height and girth supported by centuries of growth. It stood solitary in the middle of the clearing while Dorian stood in silence, observing. He didnt have to wait for long however, because a strange man walked in from the other side of the grove. He stood around 6ft tall and wore a ragged, threadbare cloak covered in stitches and patches from a long life of wear and tear. It was torn in places and did a very poor job of hiding the massive longbow strung across the his back, along with the full quiver of arrows around his waist.

The man approached the tree cautiously, his steps purposeful and quiet. As he grew closer and closer the beat of Dorians heart grew louder and louder until he was sure it would burst out of his chest. Once the man was close enough a strange energy seemed to leap from the tree, connecting to the man's outstretched hand. He was immediately bathed in an sickly green glow and a ornate bracer appeared on his wrist, while a slow hum emanated from the tree.

"HAHA!" he yelled in glee, ecstatic at finally claiming his prize, "It's mine, all mine! With this I will finally re-"

His frantic speech was cut off as a sleek arrow whizzed out from behind an ancient oak tree, far enough away from the circle so as not to be affected by its insidious energies and buried itself up to the fletching in the strangers back.

He swayed for a moment, as if on the precipice of life and death before collapsing face down. After a moment a lean, and graceful elf revealed herself from her hiding spot and took several steps forward with her bow drawn, keeping it trained on the now prone form of the man in front of her. Cautious and careful she edged as close as possible to the man before loosing her drawn arrow into his head, confirming his death. She then dragged the body out of the clearing, careful to stay as far away from the tree as possible.

Dorian looked on, his lips pursed into a straight line as he watched the brutal slaughter. The elf however seemed undisturbed about the man she had just murdered and continued to slowly drag off the body, before disappearing into the dense forest. The memory faded into darkness and a low mist crept in around Dorian's feet.

"The elves jealously guard their secrets Dorian", a once strange, but now familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Perhaps you could convince them to tell you about your heritage, and that bow you keep strung, but never use".

"Enough games, give me answers!" he yelled into the oppressive darkness, his voice echoing right back into his ears.

"If only it were that easy Dorian of Hearthkeep" the voice breathed into his ear, cackling madly as the fog of his dreams gave way to the harsh reality of the drafty tavern once more.

Dorian blinked slowly, trying his best to focus his muddled thoughts, before reaching out for his unfinished drink. Unfortunately he lacked his usual grace and instead knocked it onto the floor, spilling the precious contents.

He grumbled to himself then sat up in the hardwood chair, his hair lopsided and greasy from the night laying on a table. He stood up straight and turned his neck from side to side, trying to loosen the strained muscles from his unfortunate sleeping position. Before he could do anything to alleviate his annoyance he heard footsteps above him and quickly straightened the mess on his head, before heading over to the bar and slamming himself into one of the stools situated there.

After a minute or so, the slight thud of bare feet treading slowly down the steps reached Dorians trained ears. If it weren't for his extensive experience hunting and specific skill set he never would of heard her coming. Of course he didn't want people to know he could hear them so he continued his charade.

He blindly felt round the bar he was resting on, his hand seeking something to wet his parched throat, still dry after the incident with his mug earlier. With a small sigh of victory he wrapped his hands around what felt like a full flagon. Without opening his eyes he took a gulp, and then swished the mysterious liquid around his mouth. He recognized the taste almost immediately, milk that was still slightly warm. He opened his eyes and was startled to see an elf glaring down at him from across the counter.

"More to your taste?" She questioned, a grim smile briefly crossing her features

"You know, ever since Eragon patched you up I've heard nothin but sass coming from that dainty little mouth Arya" Dorian replied, his own sarcasm rearing its head.

"I have to do something to entertain myself in these trying times, you just happen to be an easy target".

Before Dorian could retort Eragon and Brom came down the stairs, a little less gracefully then the elf. Eragon immediately sat down before nodding to himself, and making small gestures to no-one in particular, so Dorian immediately assumed he was conversing with Saphira. Brom gave Dorain a hard look before sitting next to Eragon and nudging him with his elbow to get him to focus.

Dorian stood up and placed his hands on his hips before coughing to clear his throat.

"Morning all… Today we ride for petrovya, it should only take us one or two days to get there so I suggest we leave immediately" he paused for a moment before continuing, "since we are on the fringes of the Empire, Saphira shouldn't have to worry as much about being spotted but I would still like for her to keep a low profile, and also no more-" He cut himself off, standing stock still as he listened. "Arya, upstairs now" he pointed to the stairs and he whispered urgently, "you two, keep it quiet"

"Whats happen-" before Eragon could finish his question the sound of heavy boots could be heard just outside the door, Followed by the distinctive ringing of chainmail. The door opened slowly, the creaking of its unoiled hinges incredibly loud in the silence of the main room of the tavern. The first thing they noticed was the black boots polished to a shine thudding on the wooden floor, then they saw the bright gold of Galbatorix's sigil woven into a black padded doublet. The man also wore a heavy greatcoat that gave him an aura of intimidation that seemed to make the whole room a few degrees colder.

Arya was not looking at him however, she was focused on her one goal, making it up those stairs. Once she was out of sight, she was safe from whatever the officer had planned. Unfortunately for her however the officer stood for a moment, and gazed around the room, before noticing Arya trying her best to calmly walk up the steps.

"You there" He shouted across the room, "Girl!"

Arya froze in place before turning around to face the officer, her face set into a hard line.

"Come here for a moment" He then gestured with his arm for her to come closer, a sly grin crossing his aged skin.

She walked towards the officer with a purposeful stride, appearing confident despite her inner turmoil. After what seemed like an eternity she came to a halt in front of him.

He reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "You know… you are quite the exotic beauty" He then paused for a second, before sighing heavily, "Where are you from?"

She was stunned into silence, before she answered with the first thing that came to her head.

"I'm from Carvahall… sir" She answered, trying her best to be meek and forgettable, a defense mechanism that was very effective at deflecting suspicion.

"Oh, well at least you can be comforted by the fact your townsfolk are safe, an occupation force just took control of the town to protect them from urgal incursions"

Out of sight of the officer, Eragon's face set into a hard line, while he held his drink in a white-knuckled grip, and his anger started to bleed through. Just a moment before he was about to explode on the officer, a hand from Brom stopped him in his tracks.

"That is quite the journey, you must be very brave to walk all this way alone" The officer noted, a mocking note entering his voice.

"My uncle, sitting in that middle table there is escorting me" She explained. Then she walked over to Dorian who pretending to snooze and gave him a stout kick in the shin, "Get up uncle, An officer of the king wants to talk to ya" she put on an informal tone, trying to cover up her elven grace with a touch of a country accent.

He grumbled in annoyance, before standing up to face the officer. "Whaddya want?"

"I was in the process of figuring out why you and your niece here would travel so far from home"

"Well, we were on our way to Surda to join up with Varden" Dorian told the soldier, not a hint of humour in his voice,"in fact that boy over there is the last free dragon rider in Alagaesia"

A tense silence filled the room to the brim, and everyone stared at Dorian with looks of surprise on their faces while the officer was frozen in shock.

Before anyone could make a move, Dorian released a chuckle before bending over at his waist with laughter, "The look on your face" he managed to say while wiping a tear from his eye, "Was priceless".

The officer was stunned by his outburst for a moment, before spinning around and leaving, his leather boots slowly fading into the distance.

"Alright, pack your things everyone we leave for Farthen Dur immediately" Dorian told the assembled group, his usual stoic nature returning to his face.

"No, I'm going to Carvahall!" Eragon announced, his face red with barely restrained anger.

"Listen, I understand your anger, but there is more at stake here than you realise-" Dorian tried to explain, before being interrupted by Eragon

"No you listen, those are my friends and family and they are in danger" He continued his rant, "It's my duty as a rider to protect those in danger, so I am going to Carvahall!" He finished, breathing heavily

"Are you done?"

"No in fact-" He tried to continue his rant, before a very angry Dorian interrupted him.

"Do you understand that as the last free rider you have an obligation to all of alagaesia!", Dorian spelled it out very clearly, "every minute you spend in carvahall, is another minute Galbatorix spends consolidating his power and oppressing the very people you are supposed to protect!" Dorian breathed heavily before calming himself down, "I understand your pain Eragon, I really do" Dorian tried to explain, "But there is more at stake here than you know.. So trust me when I say the Varden is yours, and our best hope"

"Alright, fine", Eragon replied, "Let's go"


	6. Chapter 6 - Haste to the Varden

**Hey guys, Just want to give a huge shoutout to "FailtasticBelt" For his reviews and constructive criticism. He is a fantastic writer, I in particular like his 'SAO' story "Demon Slayer: Sun Dancer Remake". Definitely go check it out and until next time**

 **-Beagle out-**

"Dorian, we are going to need horses", Brom suggested, "As much as I hate to steal, the empires pursuit will be swift and we will need the extra speed". Dorian dipped his head and thought for a second before nodding in affirmation. Brom jogged out the door and shut it behind him, And the rest of the room fell into silence.

"I won't be needing a horse, I will run" Arya spoke from the corner, already heading towards their room to retrieve her belongings, her graceful strides barely making a sound on the aged wooden floor. Eragon stood on the spot, his eyes narrowed as if he was focusing on something far away.

"Saphira knows what's happening and is on the way to fly with us"

"Good, try to keep her updated" Then Dorian paused for a moment, "In the meantime Eragon, help Arya with our supplies if you please" Dorian asked, his voice still steady despite the stress that was mounting.

After a moment his thoughts finally turned to himself, after a moment he pushed open the aged wooden door and was momentarily blinded by the morning sun. Covering his eyes with his hand he stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust. After his vision cleared he gazed upon three fine steeds saddled and ready to ride. Picking out his saddlebags he jogged over to his horse.

A brown and white spotted mare awaited him and brayed quietly when he got close. his hands found their way to her muzzle where he slowly pet her until she calmed. Whispering soothing words he started unpacking his bow. His hands caressed its smooth finish, until they rested on the large stone resting in its heart. It pulsed slightly upon contact and after a moment's hesitation he strung his weapon with a practiced ease before swinging it over his shoulder. This was closely followed by his quiver of arrows. which hung around his hip. With a sigh of contentment he rolled his shoulders before getting ready to mount up.

He stopped when he heard a sound behind him, and was surprised by the old inn owner glaring at him.

"Whaddya think ya doin?" She questioned, hands on her hips. The rather heavyset woman was clearly not impressed by the group and was curious as to what they were up to.

"I would keep myself hidden if I were you, the less you see the safer you will be" Dorian cautioned the woman, and thought for a moment before holding out a rather hefty bag of gold. "Something for your trouble… and silence". Her eyes narrowed and glared at him for a moment, deciding in her head whether or not it was worth the trouble, before she snatched the bag from his hands and quickly disappeared back inside. Dorian began planning their route in his head, thinking of potential campsites and cities to avoid. He turned around when he heard the sound of soft hoofbeats on the ground behind him.

"Riders approach from the west, we need to leave with haste"

"Damn, I thought we'd have more time" Dorian sighed heavily before squaring his shoulders and standing a little taller, as if mentally preparing himself for the coming chase.

"Could you get Eragon moving, We need to go"

Brom nodded before heading inside, his steps hurried but not frantic. In the meantime Dorian loaded his meagre possessions into the saddlebags. He stopped moving for a moment when he heard a noise in the trees beside the Inn. He looked along the ground towards the forest and despite the still air saw the shadows of the tree's move. He closed up the saddlebag and walked around his horse to place it between him and the forest. He slowly shrugged his bow into his hands and drew a singular arrow from his quiver. Moving only his head he peered around his horse and found the slightly moving shadow crouching by one of the large oak trees.

Closing his eyes he visualized the arc of his arrow and its target. His index and middle finger gripped the arrow and held it loosely to the string, just tight enough to hold the singular arrow in place. After a moment he stepped out from behind his horse and in one smooth motion pulled the arrow back and released without pause. He then immediately drew another arrow and fired with a slightly higher a satisfaction that never truly disappeared he watched as the two arrows sailed across the clearing and with a gasp they found their mark in the strangers throat. The now fatally wounded man let out a strangled, choked gasp before collapsing to the ground.

He ran to the body and immediately noticed the gold flame on his chest. He retrieved his arrows and dragged the body deeper into the forest, so that it would take a little longer to find. When he returned he found Brom standing silently and a less silent, and impatient Eragon. Arya stood next to Eragon's horse, stoic as ever, ready to begin their journey. Dorian mounted his horse and then with a loud "Hyah" they began to gallop away, following Dorians lead.

 **Several hours later -**

The party continued forward steadily approaching a cliff face with a small valley leading into its depths. Dorian raised his hand and pointed forward towards it. His intentions made clear the group urged their horses into a faster gallop, racing against time to get out of sight of imperial pursers before nightfall.

Unbeknownst to Dorian a figure laid prone on top of that cliff face, and observed the party take shelter in the deep valley. He lay there for several minutes after they passed before rising up and moving away from the edge. He had a small cage placed several meters back which held a singular bird inside. Scrawling a quick note he tied the small message to its foot before releasing it into the dusky night.

"We rest here", Dorian ordered, while gesturing to a small cave on the side of the valley, "I'll take first watch". He then slipped out of the cave without much sound, which rapidly disappeared into silence.

Arya sat near the entrance and gazed into the rapidly darkening night sky, while Brom and Eragon set up their respective bedrolls. While they did this Eragon kept taking small glances at Arya, her form bathed by the moonlight, almost glowing. He sighed to himself and started removing his cloak, intent on getting as much sleep as he could before his watch.

Brom glanced at Eragon, who was clearly lost to his thoughts, before tapping his shoulder.

"Let's train", he then threw a wooden sword he prepared earlier towards Eragon.

Catching the sword in his outstretched hand Eragon sighed heavily before dropping into a now familiar ready stance, his weight on his right foot and leading with his left. His hands held the guard low to his waist and he slowly moved to the left to get inside Broms guard. This put his back to the cave entrance and cast his shadow across Brom's eyes His feet shuffled without ever leaving the ground and his face was stoic, giving no hints as to what he was planning. They both stopped at the same time, and the tension grew thick in the air. Without his knowledge Arya turned around to view the confrontation.

With an explosion of movement Eragon dashed forward a swung with a hard left to Broms side, the shock when their swords clashed reverberated up Eragon's hand and all the way to his shoulder. Brom then moved to strike Eragon's now exposed right side with his boot, the hard leather hitting him dead-on the ribs, and he gritted his teeth before feinting upwards and then crouched low, sweeping Brom's legs out from under him and then pointing his sword at Broms neck. The fight had ended almost as fast as it started, with much chagrin Brom grinned before taking Eragon's outstretched hand. Using his considerable strength Eragon helped him to his feet.

"Well done, it is clear I have no more to teach you" Brom complimented, his eyes shining with pride, "But that's no excuse for us to stop training, we will continue tomorrow night". With an air of finality then strolled out of the cave to where the horses were picketed. Eragon appeared confused for a moment before noticing that Arya was facing towards where the spar had just taken place.

"You fight well Eragon, It is not often that Brom is defeated" Arya complimented, impressed that Eragon had acquired such skill in such little time. His face lit up with a smile, clearly her words had quite the effect on him. Before he could even mutter out a reply, she looked back to the moon once more and continued her silent vigil.

Miles away, flying silently through the air the greatest predator in Alagaesia flew silently. The air was still and the moon bathed Saphira's scales and despite the late hour she was wide awake. Her senses were on full alert so when she detected a rather small creature flying towards her. She moved to capture it in her immense jaws but decided it wasn't worth the effort and allowed it to pass her by. Minutes later Eragon mentally showed her their campsite and how to reach it. She glided silently, before making a slight left bank and began her approach to the camp.


End file.
